The Last Blind Date
by snettimylevol
Summary: Modern day AU. When Emma and Killian are unknowingly set up on a blind date by their well-intentioned, but meddling friends, they decide that they're going to get back at Mary Margaret and David and make sure this is the last time either of them are set up on blind dates again.
1. Chapter 1

"This is the _last time_ you set me up with anyone, Mary Margaret!" Emma tugged off her heels and dropped onto her friend's couch, propping one foot on her knee and rubbing her thumb along her aching arch.

"Oh! But I really thought you two would hit it off!" Mary Margaret brought two glasses of red wine from the kitchen and perched next to Emma, passing a glass to her. "He's always seemed pleasant at the faculty functions at school."

Emma rolled her eyes. "That's a great word to describe him: pleasant. If you think hearing about someone complain about their ex and be rude to the server all night is 'pleasant.' I'm serious this time, Mary Margaret—no more blind dates." She took a deep gulp of her wine—she was going to need it to erase this date from hell.

"I just want you to be happy!" Mary Margaret looked stricken, and Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes. Mary Margaret and her husband David Nolan were _the real deal_. Cynics can say all they want about true love not existing, but it practically radiated off the pair. It was enough to make a single girl feel sick.

"Mary Margaret, I love you, but enough is enough." Emma shook her head, leaning back into the couch. "And now I plan on getting spectacularly drunk and falling asleep on your couch as punishment. Because you need to hear every last detail of this disaster…."

* * *

><p><em>Oh. My. God. It was happening again.<em> Honestly, Emma should have known something was up when Mary Margaret picked the swanky Italian restaurant for dinner—the trio almost always met up at Granny's Diner when they went out for a bite. Emma glanced up through her windshield at the sign, and shook her head.

The text from Mary Margaret hadn't come through until Emma had already pulled her VW Beetle into a spot across the street. Apparently the Nolans were feeling a bit under the weather, and they couldn't get a hold of David's college friend Killian (surprise, surprise), and he'd taken off work to join them, so could Emma please, with a cherry on top, entertain him?

This had bad news written all over it.

Once inside the restaurant, it didn't take Emma long to spot her target—a lone man with dark hair sitting alone at a four-top. It had to be him. Emma weaved through the tables until she reached him, "Hi, are you Killian?" Her smile froze when she caught sight of his face. _Dear Jesus, please let this be him._ The thought popped unbidden into her mind. But good lord, this man was beautiful.

"Aye. And you must be Ms. Swan," He stood and took her hand, enveloping it with his warm, calloused fingers. He gestured to the seat across from him with his free hand.

"Please, call me Emma." What was it about men with accents, Emma wondered to herself. His voice had the lilt and flow of the Irish. She slid into the seat across from him.

"Emma." He said her name with a smile, and she actually felt her body clench, hot and low in her stomach. "I suppose we're just waiting on David and Mary Margaret then?" Killian continued.

"Ah, actually, Mary Margaret claims they've 'both fallen ill.'" Emma quirked her brow, lifting her hands to do air quotes at the end.

Killian nodded, lips quirked in a half smile, "So we've been set up, have we?"

"I'd say so. Mary Margaret does this to me _all the time._"

"Aye, me as well, lass." Killian laughed, dragging his hand through his hair. "Although, she usually gives me a bit of a warning that it's coming."

Emma shook her head, smiling as she leaned toward him, resting on her forearms. "What a pair we make." When their server approached their table, requesting their drink order, Emma weighed her options. "Well, what do you think?"

"About what, lass? A drink?"

She laughed, "No, do we stay or go?"

He shrugged, "Well, we're already here, aren't we? And you're quite easy on the eyes, so why not?" He shot her a crooked grin.

Emma quirked a brow. _Was he flirting with her?_ _Maybe tonight was going to be interesting after all._ She turned to their server, the girl was waiting expectantly, clearly not amused by their bantering. "A glass of your house red, please."

Killian looked pleased. "Aye, and a rum and Coke for me. Thank you."

"So," Emma began, after a pregnant pause, one brow curving upward. "How would you feel about a little revenge?"

Killian pressed a hand to his heart and gasped. "On our dear, sweet Mary Margaret?" He flashed her a devilish grin. "I'd say you were speaking my language, love. What do you have in mind?"

She smiled as the server dropped off their drinks, nodding a quick thanks to the girl. "You know, I think I have just the thing." Emma took a slow sip of her wine, eying Killian over the rim of her glass. "I think we should pretend to date."

Killian's lips twitched, "Pretend?"

"Yup." Emma lifted her hands, gesturing between the two of them. "You and I pretend to have this spectacular, whirlwind romance for a few weeks—only to have it erupt in a horrible ball of flame. In front of Mary Margaret, of course." Emma's eyes were shining with wicked delight—a look that was mirrored right back at her.

"Oh, lass, you're a woman after my own heart." Killian's grin was wicked. "Now, let's figure out how we're going to pull this off."

* * *

><p>Emma was actually stunned by how much fun she'd had. It wasn't even completely a lie when she texted Mary Margaret that night to gush about the dinner and thank her friend for setting her up (all part of "The Plan," as they'd dubbed it).<p>

The hours had quickly flown by, and it was well past midnight when Emma unlocked the door to her apartment and let herself in, stepping out of her towering heels and padding barefoot to her bedroom. They'd talked the night away—oh, of course they'd plotted and planned, but Emma had learned a lot about Killian Jones during their evening together, and she honestly couldn't remember laughing so much in a long time.

She'd discovered that he and David had been roommates freshman year of college and had desperately hated one another for the first two weeks, for reasons that still escaped the both of them, according to Killian. But one night David happened to come upon Killian cornered by three other guys ("For some minor slight, I assure you," he'd said with a grin), and jumped in the fray to stand by Killian. They'd come out with a black eye and a split lip between them and had been thick as thieves ever since.

"My own Prince Charming to the rescue," Killian had said with a laugh.

Emma was smiling at the memory as she peeled off her dress and dropped down onto her bed, pulling the covers up over her. And she couldn't deny that spending time with Killian was going to be a hardship. The man was sinfully gorgeous. And when he'd hugged her goodnight, she hadn't been able to suppress the shiver that had rolled through her. She'd just nodded when he'd asked if she was cold—it was far less embarrassing than saying she'd nearly moaned at the feeling of his hard body pressed against hers.

The last thing Emma thought as she drifted off to sleep was that her revenge might not go quite as she planned.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his best efforts, Killian's mind drifted to Emma and her vibrant green eyes more than once after their "date." It had kept him up hours after he'd arrived home to his flat in downtown Boston. And now it was Tuesday, and he was sitting at his desk, his thumb hovering over her name in his phone. Emma Swan. It was taunting him. He was trying not to over-think that fact that he desperately wanted to call her.

He leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched out under his desk, and rotated his iPhone around and around in his hand. Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped on his mail icon and typed in her email address.

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: My Pookie Muffin?<em>

_Is it too early to start thinking about pet names? I think Mary Margaret would love it._

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

He was smiling as he hit send. He'd only just started reviewing the draft he'd been trudging through all morning when his laptop dinged with an incoming message. Forgoing his phone, he opened up the message on his computer.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: Really?<em>

_Pookie Muffin? You can do better than that._

_How about Doodle Bear for you?_

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Director of Sweet, Sweet Revenge<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

Killian actually laughed out loud at her reply. His work completely forgotten, he started typing.

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Princess Pookie Muffin?<em>

_On the contrary, I believe Pookie Muffin is top shelf, but if you insist on elevating your status, how about Princess Pookie Muffin? I think it has a nice ring to it. And I must say, I'm fond of Doodle Bear. It's decided._

_Have you confirmed plans with Mary Margaret for Friday evening?_

_Killian "Doodle Bear" Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

Her reply came back in less than a minute.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: It's a date, Doodle Bear<em>

_Yeah, I talked to her last night. We're all set for dinner at their place at 7:30. I hope you're prepared for for nausea-inducing levels of PDA._

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Princess Pookie Muffin<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

Killian made a note of their plans in his calendar before typing his reply.

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Re: It's a date, Doodle Bear<em>

_I look forward to it, love._

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: Re: It's a date, Doodle Bear<em>

_Get back to work, Doodle Bear. I'm not gonna date a slacker._

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Social Worker<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

* * *

><p>The rest of the week was a blur of paperwork and meetings until finally, blessedly, it was Friday evening, and Killian was standing at Emma's doorstep, clutching a small bouquet of flowers. When she swung open the door with a breathless "hi," still putting on one earring, Killian had to stop himself from staring.<p>

She was wearing another skin-tight dress, this number in black, with black tights and knee-high boots to complete the ensemble. "You look incredible," he said finally, and offered her the flowers. "I brought these to make it a proper date."

Emma brought the flowers to her nose and looked up at him, "Oh, Doodle Bear, you shouldn't have." She was laughing as the turned into the apartment and headed into the kitchen. Killian kept close behind her, trying (and failing) to keep his eyes off her ass. Fake date or not, he was still a man.

"Are you ready to impress the Nolans?" Killian asked.

"Oh, you have no idea." Emma reached to get an empty jar off a high shelf. "Like I said before, this is going to be the last time Mary Margaret sets me up on a blind date." She added water to the make-shift vase and placed the flowers on the center of her kitchen table.

"Aye, you and me both, love." Killian picked up the jacket hanging over the back of her dining room chair and offered it to her. "Shall we let the fun begin?"

Emma grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

* * *

><p>The drive to the Nolan's house was short, and they spent the entire time plotting their evening—specifically how they were going to be sickeningly cute the entire night. As Killian lifted a hand to knock on the door, Emma looped her arm through his and pulled him close. "Here goes nothing," she whispered.<p>

Mary Margaret was practically bursting at the seams when she opened the door and took in the sight of them, and she could barely contain her excitement even as they all sat down to dinner. Emma sat directly beside Killian, and as soon as he placed his hands on the table, she linked her fingers through his—leaving their clasped hands where Mary Margaret could see them.

"So!" Mary Margaret began cheerfully. "I'm so pleased to see that you two have hit it off! I'm sorry that David and I couldn't make it!" Her apologetic tone was in direct contrast with her bright eyes.

Killian cocked a brow at his friend and smiled. "Right. I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, mate."

"Oh yeah," David nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Muuuch better." There was a faint thump under the table, and based on David's reaction, Killian assumed his wife had given him a little kick.

Emma leaned toward Killian, pressing their shoulders together. "You know, it worked out for the best. Killian and I had a marvelous time." She looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, and he couldn't help but stare.

"Aye, that we did, love." It wasn't difficult to pretend Emma was the only person in the room when she looked at him like that. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he wanted to close the space between them and kiss her. And then it occurred to him... he could. That was entirely the purpose of this fake dinner date with Mary Margaret and David—to convince them that he and Emma were crazy about each other.

As though realizing what he was thinking, Emma's lips parted and then slowly curved upward. That was the final straw. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. A jolt of warmth shot through his body, firing from his lips to settle hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach. He meant for it to be a light kiss—as though it was something they had done many times in the past week—but almost without realizing it, his hand was cupping the back of her neck and the kiss was changing into something deeper.

He was snapped out of the moment when Mary Margaret gasped and giddily clasped her hands together in front of her. As Killian pulled back, he tucked Emma's hair behind her ear. Her eyes were flashing, and he watched as her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He was ready to dive in for round two when Emma turned, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Sorry," she began. "Sometimes we get a little carried away." Emma linked their fingers together again.

"Oh! It's totally fine!" Mary Margaret looked like she was going to pop for all the excitement. "Seeing you two together just makes me so happy!"

David was watching him with a curious look in his eye, as though he were properly seeing Killian and Emma together for the first time, weighing and measuring, but not fully deciding.

* * *

><p>The rest of the evening went off without a hitch, and the pair of them made any excuse to touch or flirt with one another—and if Killian had to be honest with himself, it really wasn't a hardship. Emma was a charming lass, and he enjoyed spending time with her. And touching her.<p>

When they left, Mary Margaret had wrapped them each in a bone-crushing hug, saying again just how happy she was. And it wasn't until they were standing at Emma's doorstep again that Killian realized he really didn't want the night to be over.

"Well, I'd say that was a complete success." Emma smiled up at him. "How about you?"

"Aye, love. She won't know what hit her." She was standing close enough that he could still smell her—a sweet, warm scent—and it only made him want to step in closer, until their bodies were pressed together.

"You should try to make plans with David sometime next week," Emma said. "And then we can turn it into another double-date."

"I'll see what I can do." Killian's gaze dropped to her mouth. When he dragged it back up to her eyes, he found them flashing with heat. He wanted to kiss her again... To taste her. He wanted to feel her body against his, pressed against the door. He had to remind himself that this all wasn't real. That Emma had just been playing her part all night, and that this wasn't about to lead into anything hot and heavy. He needed space to clear his head, so he stepped back, and he could have sworn Emma actually looked a little disappointed.

After a long moment, she said, "Okay. Well, I'll talk to you soon?"

"Aye, love. That you will."

Emma shot him a quick smile. "Alright. 'Night Doodle Bear." She closed the door between them.

It wasn't until Killian was sitting in his car that he wondered what in the bloody hell he had gotten himself into.


	3. Chapter 3

"Holy shit," Emma muttered to herself, leaning back against the door she had just closed. She lifted her fingers and touched them to her lips. It had been hours since they'd kissed, but she could still feel the warmth.

Just before he'd left... there'd been a moment. She was certain he was going to kiss her again. In fact, she wanted it. Which was just crazy, right? Because this was all an illusion. But damn if he hadn't acted his part well earlier. She'd lost every thought in her head when he'd kissed her at the table. She'd wanted to wrap her fingers in his thick, dark hair and... well, let's just say she doubted Mary Margaret would have approved—at least not at the dinner table.

She needed to stay based in reality—she and Killian were just playing a game. As Emma pushed away from her front door and moved through her apartment to her bedroom, her eyes passed over the bouquet of flowers Killian had brought for her, and a stupid grin broke out across her face.

_Yeah, right. Reality. Good luck with that, Swan._ She shook her head and tried to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach.

* * *

><p>Thursday marked six days since Emma had heard from Killian. Six agonizingly long days of erased text messages and emails sent to the garbage folder. She jolted when she saw an email notification from him at the bottom of her computer screen.<p>

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Plans this Saturday?<em>

_Hello my dearest Princess Pookie Muffin,_

_I'm going out for drinks Saturday with a few mates of mine—David's sure to be in attendance. Would you care to join?_

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

Emma caught her bottom lip between her teeth to try and suppress a smile. It was normal to be excited about spending time in an attractive man's company, right? It didn't mean she had _feelings_ for him.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: Re: Plans Saturday?<em>

_Sure. What time and where?_

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Social Worker<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

It took 30 minutes for him to reply—Emma knew because she was refreshing her inbox every two minutes or so.

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Re: Plans Saturday?<em>

_8:30 at Red Fox. I look forward to seeing you._

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

It was lucky that the plans were settled so quickly because the rest of Emma's day was slammed. She had two new foster kid cases fall into her lap, each more heartbreaking than the last—and no matter how many times Emma told herself to stay objective, the advice never stuck. The orphans had a special hold on her, and it made her work all the harder for them.

By the end of the day, it was a relief to shut down her computer for the night and head home, even if the cases lingered in the back of her mind.

* * *

><p>The next day, Emma got a text message from Killian around noon asking how her day was going. She firmly ignored the fluttering in her chest as she replied. They continued texting throughout the day, Killian telling her about the insane online conference he had to host that night at 1am for some of his company's contacts in Tokyo. Apparently the Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions was needed around the clock to handle big deals.<p>

They were still texting at 11pm when Killian abruptly sent: _Can I call you?_

A phone call before bed? That seemed oddly serious. Emma chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating. There was no law against them being friends, right? Just because they were pretending to be a couple didn't mean they couldn't spend a few minutes on the phone. She quickly typed her reply: _Okay._

A few moments later, her phone rang. "Hey," she answered.

"Hello. I thought this would be a bit easier. Plus, I'm getting things set up at my home office for this conference call."

"Oh, I don't want to distract you from work." Emma laid back on her bed, drawing circles on her comforter with her index finger.

Killian laughed. "Don't worry, love. You're a welcome distraction. It's been a long day. And I need to stay awake until this meeting."

"Sorry to hear that. I've had a hell of a day, too." She thought of the two new cases she'd been working on since the day before.

"Aye? Tell me about it. Misery loves company, you know."

Emma took a deep breath, trying to decide just how much she wanted to share. For some reason, talking to him felt easy and natural. "I got assigned two new cases at work yesterday. They're...," she struggled to find the right word. "They're tough, let's put it that way." Killian waited patiently for her to continue. "They're both kids who are having a rough time of it in the foster system. One has been spit out over and over again by different families, and that's hard on its own. The other one is a young girl." Emma blew out a long breath. "We really thought the last family she was with was going to stick. She was there for just over a year when the foster mom found out she was pregnant. And just like that," Emma snapped her fingers. "The girl was sent packing."

"That's terrible. What a hard thing for someone so young to go through."

"It happens all the time. That's the worst part."

"How do you do it? It must be heartbreaking. " Killian sounded grave.

How did she do it? Emma knew the answer, but was she willing to share it? For some reason, she was. She wanted to tell him the real, true answer. Barely louder than a whisper, Emma said, "I was that little girl once." And then she told him the story of her past. It was one that she'd only ever told a handful of times before. How she'd been found, wrapped in her baby blanket, on the side of the road. How she'd bounced from one foster family to the next until she'd finally found a place she thought she could call home—only to be returned a few months later. She told him how she'd given up after that and decided she had to be her own family. "And that's why I got into social work. If I can help one child from feeling the way I felt... well, then. It would all be worth it."

The phone was silent for a long time, and Emma worried she'd said too much. Just as she was about to fill the air with something, anything, Killian said, "I'd say you've found your family and your place now. Here with Mary Margaret and David, I mean. Meddlers though they may be, they certainly love you as their own. You've done quite well for yourself."

"I suppose so," Emma quickly tried to change the subject, feeling uncomfortable after exposing so much. "Well, tell me something about you now. It's only fair."

Killian laughed, "What do you want to know, love? I'm an open book."

"What's your happiest memory growing up?"

"Ah, that's an easy one." Emma could hear the smile in his voice. "Near our parents' home in Ireland, there were these three cliffs overlooking the sea. During the summers, the older kids would climb to the highest cliff and leap into the water below. And for years, I had to watch my older brother, Liam, launch himself from the edge of that cliff and soar through the air. I was jealous as could be. Then the summer I turned 12, Liam took me up to the highest cliff and told me it was my turn to jump. I was petrified. But if my brother told me to do it, I was bloody well determined to do it. As I stood there, contemplating my sure death, my brother stepped forward, grabbed my hand, pulled me to the edge, and we jumped. I laughed all the way until I hit the water."

Emma was smiling ear to ear. "Where's Liam now?"

"Ah, he passed some years ago," The laughter in Killian's voice faded.

"I'm so sorry, Killian." It seemed neither of them were a stranger to pain and loss.

"It's alright, love. It's nice remembering the happy times we shared together."

After that, their conversation drifted to more casual topics—movies they'd seen recently, bands they liked, Killian's upcoming meeting and his previous trips to Tokyo.

"Well, I'd best be going, love," Killian finally said. "And I don't want to keep you up any longer. Thanks for keeping me company until my meeting."

"No problem." Emma yawned, glancing at her bedside clock to read the time: 12:41am. "I hope you knock your meeting out of the park tonight."

"Aye, me as well. Goodnight, Emma."

"'Night, Doodle Bear."

Emma was smiling as she fell asleep. And when she woke up on Saturday morning, she was greeted by a text that said, _Home run. See you tonight._

* * *

><p>On Saturday, Emma arrived at Red Fox just after 8:30, eyes scanning the room for Killian. She refused to acknowledge the fact that she'd tried on and discarded five different outfits before leaving her house. And she <em>definitely<em> hadn't done it for Killian's benefit. She spotted him, as well as David, with a small group of men at a high-top table near the back of the bar, and she weaved her way through the already thickening crowd to join them.

As she drew nearer, she caught Killian's eye and the smile that spread slowly across his face made her stomach flip. He lifted his hand to her as she approached and pulled her tight to his side with a quick "hey, love." She barely had time to say hello before his lips brushed against hers. It was featherlight, and she couldn't help when her tongue darted out to run across her lips.

Killian released her immediately after, and Emma only just caught herself before she leaned back into him. _Pull it together, Swan._ She moved to David and gave him a quick hug, then took up her spot beside Killian again.

He offered quick introductions around the table. "Emma, these are some of my mates: Robin, Graham, and Jefferson." They all said hello in turn. "Gents, this is Emma Swan."

She offered a quick salute. "Nice to meet you guys."

The group ordered a round of drinks, and Graham launched into a wild story about a routine traffic stop he'd made earlier in the week. An overly amorous woman had attempted to get out of her ticket by offering a little TLC—instead she ended up with a ticket and a stern warning.

Emma was nearing the end of her second Long Island Iced Tea and feeling a nice little buzz when Killian's hand rested on the small of her back. Her skin sizzled where his fingers came in contact with it between the hem of her shirt and her jeans, and she pressed herself back toward his touch.

The topic had switched to sports when Killian leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Having a good time, love?"

His stubble just barely grazed against her ear, and she drew in a sharp breath. "Yeah, a blast. You?" She angled her body toward him, causing his hand to trail along her body and rest firmly on her waist.

"Well, you're here. So I can't complain." He smiled at her—that slow and wicked curve of his lips. It made her want to lean forward and grab his bottom lip between her teeth.

Over his shoulder, Emma saw David watching them curiously, and it was like a splash of cold water—it's all a game. Why did she keep forgetting that when she got within two feet of this man? It was like she couldn't control herself around him. She stepped back from Killian, needing the physical space. Then forced a coy smile onto her face, knowing it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You just can't get enough of me."

"Oh, aye. That's the truth of it." His eyes flashed as she stepped away, and Emma couldn't quite put a finger on the look. Before she had time to think on it longer, it was gone and he asked, "Can I get you another drink?"

She nodded and slid him her empty glass, her eyes following him as he moved to the bar.

* * *

><p>Emma had emptied that drink and another by the time she excused herself to use the restroom. She stared at her flushed reflection in the mirror and knew it was more than just the alcohol making her skin hot. Killian's friends were a lot of fun, and they told one hilarious story after another—many at his expense. But she knew the real reason why her cheeks were rosy.<p>

At every opportunity, Killian was touching her. At one point, the crowd had pushed in and Killian had been flush against her back, every point of contact frying her nerve endings. He'd rolled his hips into her when they touched, pressing himself intimately against her. He was constantly playing with her hair and running his hands along her body, more than once she'd felt his hand skim low enough to get a handful of ass. And the way he was looking at her like she was something very tasty to eat. The alcohol was making them both bold. More than once, Emma had found herself skimming her hand up and down his thigh under the table before she snatched it back. The line between what was real and what wasn't was starting to feel awfully blurry. And she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping her physical attraction to this man in check.

By the time she'd left for the restroom, Emma was practically panting. She could barely believe how worked up he'd been able to get her in a crowded bar, and she'd all but forgotten about David sitting just across the table. And boy was he going to have an earful to report to Mary Margaret.

The door to the bathroom swung open suddenly and Emma was shocked to see Killian filling its frame. "What are you—"

"Enough is bloody enough." Killian's eyes were flashing fire as he came toward her. Emma only had a moment to think that he looked like a predator cornering his prey before he reached her. His hands dove into her hair and his lips came crushing down to meet hers. This kiss was unlike any other they'd shared previously. It was hungry. It was hot. It was hard. It was pure sex.

He continued pushing against her until her hips were pressing against the sink, and then he lifted her up and set her on its edge. Her body reacted on its own, finally getting what it wanted after an evening of torture. Her legs wrapped around his waist, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in his shirt. Killian's mouth ceased its assault on hers only to move down to her neck. His teeth grazed against the soft skin where her shoulder met her throat, and Emma moaned. When she tipped her head to the side to give him better access, Killian's teeth became more insistent—biting down on that sensitive flesh, causing her to buck her hips into his, finding him hot and hard and oh-so big.

"Oh god, Killian." She dragged his mouth back to hers, catching his bottom lip in her teeth as he ground against her. His hands slipped under her shirt, sliding across her back. His kisses were more intoxicating than any of the drinks she'd had, and she was getting drunk on the taste of him. She grabbed his ass and pulled him more firmly against her. She wanted him inside her, and she didn't know how much longer she could take it.

As fate would have it, she wasn't about to find out what her limit was. The door to the bathroom opened again, and two women walked in. Emma tore her mouth from Killian's as the two women giggled, one of them saying "oh my god" as they swiftly backed out of the room. The distraction was all Emma needed to regain her sanity. What the fuck was she doing? This wasn't supposed to be real. No, this _isn't_ real. They were confusing their revenge for real attraction.

Killian was leaning down to nuzzle against her throat again when Emma slapped a hand on his chest. "What are we _doing_?"

"I think that's rather obvious, love." He grinned down at her.

Emma was shaking her head as she pushed away from him and hopped down off the counter. She had to get out of here. If she didn't, she was dangerously close to ripping his clothes off and having sex in a public bathroom. "I... I have to go." She darted out of the room and made a beeline for the door.

"Emma, wait!" Killian's voice followed her through the bar as he chased after her. He was shoving through people when she looked back.

She burst out onto the busy street and lifted a hand to hail a cab. Killian grabbed her by her upper arm and spun her toward him. "Do you mind telling me what in the bloody hell just happened?" His hair was standing up at ridiculous angles.

"I don't know!" Emma practically shouted. "This wasn't supposed to happen. We're just supposed to be getting back at Mary Margaret!"

"Yes, well clearly that isn't working out quite as we imagined, now is it?"

"I don't know," Emma repeated, lowering her voice. "This wasn't what I was expecting. You're not what I was expecting."

"Neither are you, love. But things change."

Emma shook her head. "Maybe I'm not ready for them to change."

Killian stepped toward her as a cab pulled to the curb. "It's too late for that." She turned and opened the door to the cab. "Emma, please," he said. "Don't go."

She studied his face for a long moment. What was she supposed to do? It was up to her to choose. The cool night air had completely washed away any effects of the alcohol she'd consumed earlier. Emma felt like she was standing on the cliffs of Killian's youth—and it was time to decide whether or not to jump.

She reached out and took his hand, then pulled him into the cab behind her.

_If she had to jump, it was better to do it together._


	4. Chapter 4

They were fused at the mouth for the entire cab ride to Emma's apartment, and Killian barely even acknowledged the driver when he shoved a fistful of cash at him, more than compensating the man for the things that were going on in his backseat. Killian could barely wait for them to be inside, as soon as Emma swung the door shut behind her, he was on her. He couldn't think past wanting her. He was tired of pretending that he didn't have feelings for this woman, that the desire burning through his veins wasn't real.

Killian's mouth was ravishing hers, and he didn't stop until her back was pressed up against the door. Her moans were making his blood run hot, and it made his hands insistent and needy. He dragged her jacket off her shoulders, craving skin on skin contact. And her hands were everywhere. She tugged on his shirt until he finally stepped back and let her rip it over his head. The rational part of Killian's brain clicked off when Emma's hand grazed the front of his pants and came in contact with his erection, and the last tiny thoughts that maybe they should slow down were completely extinguished.

"Bedroom, bedroom," Emma panted the word into his ear as his mouth assaulted her neck. She stepped into him and urged him backward. They made a clumsy retreat into her bedroom, tearing at one another's clothes.

Emma nearly tumbled as she stepped out of her pants, and Killian grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed. As he quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing, Emma grabbed a condom from her bedside table and tossed it to him. As soon as he had it on, he got on the bed and grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her to him. She reared up and hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him down until his mouth met hers. The kiss was an assault of tongue and teeth, and it made Killian mad with lust. He wanted to take his time and savor her, but she was grinding beneath him, lifting her hips away from the bed and pressing against him.

Growling, he grabbed her hips and drove into her deep and hard, finding her hot and wet. Emma cried out, her nails dragging down his back. Instantly, he began moving, thrusting into her with all the pent up need from a long night of touching and wanting. She met him thrust for thrust, bringing her hips up to meet him. It was a frenzied tangle of limbs, and they rode one another past the brink of sanity.

Emma's moans were filling his ears, and all he could see was her beautiful face. "Oh, god. I'm going to come." They were the sweetest words he'd ever heard. He picked up the already frantic pace, ready to lose himself in her.

"Yeah, that's it, love. Come with me." She screamed and bit his shoulder as she came, clenching around him like a hot, velvet fist. Her pleasure was like a whirlwind, and she was bucking and writhing as it coursed through her body. It was all he needed to be pushed over the edge. With one final thrust, he emptied himself inside her and collapsed.

* * *

><p>It took two more rounds before either of them fell asleep. Killian hadn't intended to spend the night at her place, but when he woke up in the morning with her head on his shoulder, he certainly couldn't complain—even if his arm was completely asleep. He smoothed her hair away from her face with his thumb, and then slowly trailed his fingers down over her exposed shoulder and to her breast, cupping it in his palm.<p>

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him, "Well, good morning to you, too."

_It wouldn't be hard to get used to seeing that face in the morning._ The thought gave Killian a start. Where had that come from? When Emma rose up to straddle him, he decided it would have to be something he thought more about later.

"A marvelous morning, I'd say," Killian wrapped his hands around her waist, admiring the beautiful woman sitting astride him.

She was sliding her hands up his chest, and grinding her hips into him—and Killian thought it was a wonder that his eyes didn't roll into the back of his head when he felt her wetness sliding along the head of his erection. "How can I still want you so much? It's bordering on absurd." Emma shook her head, smiling down at him.

His heart skipped a beat, even as he moaned. "The feeling is mutual, love." Something had changed drastically between them since their phone call on Friday night. And then after the events last night, there was simply no turning back in his mind—and Killian didn't see any reason why he should want to.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door, followed by the sound of the lock clicking open and footsteps in Emma's foyer. "Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice traveled through the apartment. "You better be up, missy! The show starts in 30 minutes."

Emma's eyes were wide with panic, and Killian wondered what Mary Margaret was doing here.

"Oh my god. Oh my god! I totally forgot." Emma slapped her hands over her mouth, and, much to his dismay, she leapt off of his lap.

"Emma, love. What's going on?" Killian watched her as she dashed around the room, pulling on sweatpants and a shirt.

"Mary Margaret and I had plans to go to her school's showing of _Peter Pan_ this morning. I totally forgot!"

"Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice was getting nearer.

When Killian moved to get out of bed, Emma held her hands up in front of her. "No, no. You just stay in here. It would be too weird if she knew you were here. I'll be... I'll be right back." And with that she turned and fled, closing the door behind her.

Instantly, Killian was off the bed. He tugged on the jeans he'd been wearing the night before. He could hear muffled voices coming from the main living area, and after a quick search, he remembered his shirt was somewhere near the front door. When he walked into the living room, he was greeted by two women gaping at him: one in complete shock and the other glaring at him something fierce.

"Good morning, Mary Margaret." Killian casually strolled toward the two of them, comfortable in his state of half-dress. He draped his arm around Emma's shoulder.

"Oh! Killian! I didn't realize...," Mary Margaret trailed off, pointing from him to Emma. She looked more surprised than Killian would have expected her to be, as though the sight of him in Emma's apartment in the morning was a complete mystery. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let myself in. I just never thought you'd let—"

Emma quickly cut off her friend, "No, Mary Margaret, it's totally fine. It's my fault. I totally forgot about our plans this morning. I'm so sorry." Emma pinched him hard on the back of his hip, but Killian kept his smile firmly in place.

"Oh no, it's fine," Mary Margaret said. "David told me the two of you left together last night. I should have assumed." She had quickly recovered from her shock and was now simply grinning from ear to ear, as though she couldn't be happier about what she'd walked in on. "Well, you know, we can always go to the show next weekend."

Emma chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Of course!" In fact, Mary Margaret seemed downright giddy at the thought. "And you can fill me in on everything else later." She winked.

Emma winced, and he could feel her whole body tense beside him. "Yeah, of course."

"Well, I better get going then." Mart Margaret smiled at both of them. "Good to see you, Killian. Call me, Emma!" And with that, she swept out the door.

Emma stepped out from under Killian's arm and leaned down to grab his shirt from the floor. He caught it as it hit his chest and pulled it on. "Are you going to tell me what that was about?" Killian asked.

She avoided his eyes as she walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like bloody hell you don't." Killian laid his hand against the cabinet, swinging it shut. "Why didn't you want Mary Margaret to know I was here? And why was she so damn surprised?" Emma tugged on the cabinet a few times, and Killian kept his palm firmly against it.

"It's weird now, okay?" Emma whirled toward him, tossing her hands into the air.

"What do you mean 'weird'? Weird how?"

"It just is. I don't know what this means now or what's going on between us." Emma looked more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.

Killian shook his head. "I think it seems rather obvious what's going on."

"What are you talking about?" Emma practically shouted. "One minute, we're pretending to date, and the next we're doing things that are decidedly _not_ pretending. I don't know what's going on, so how could you?"

He ran his tongue along his teeth, considering his words. "I'd say we're both done pretending."

Emma laughed and dragged her hands over her face. "Yeah, it seems that way."

Killian stepped toward Emma. When she didn't move away, he hoped the worst of it was over. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to give her a kiss. Quickly, the kiss turned from reassuring to ravenous.

"This has easily got to be the worst revenge plot of all time," Emma laughed as Killian picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist easily.

He started toward the bedroom. "Or, perhaps, the best."

* * *

><p>It wasn't until hours later, when Killian was finally back at home, that he realized Emma had never told him why Mary Margaret would have been so surprised to see him there in the morning.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

When Emma woke up on Monday morning, she'd already missed two calls from Mary Margaret and had six unread text messages—five were from her and the sixth was one from Killian that simply said "good morning." Emma ignored all of them. She just wasn't ready to face what had happened.

The entire way to work, Emma managed not to think about the last time she had let a man spend the night in her bed, but as soon as she sat down alone at her desk, staring at her two case files, the memories were inescapable. _Neal_. The one person she'd truly given the power of breaking her heart—and the only person who had ever done so. Nearly a decade had passed since she'd laid eyes on him, the man who'd been her only family for 3 years. It turned out his idea of family and hers had been very different. It was something that had taught her a valuable lesson: the only person you can truly trust in this world is yourself.

She'd kept every man she'd dated since at a comfortable distance. Dinners, barbecues, holiday parties—Emma never had difficulty finding a partner for any event, but she _never_ allowed them into her life, let alone her morning routine. And now, somehow, this man whom she'd known for two weeks had broken one of her cardinal rules of dating. Emma laughed and dragged her hand through her hair. _Dating_. Was that even what they were doing? Sure, she and Killian had gone on dates—but they weren't real dates. Her mind flashed to the weekend and the endless number of bone-melting orgasms he had given her. Yeah, those were definitely real.

But what was supposed to happen now? Emma had no idea.

* * *

><p>By lunch time, Emma had missed three more calls from Mary Margaret, and on the fourth call, Emma finally gave in and answered, "Hi, Mary Margaret." She pulled her lunch out of the work refrigerator.<p>

"So are we going to talk about it now?" Her friend began with no preamble whatsoever.

Emma rolled her eyes and popped her soup into the microwave. "There isn't really anything to talk about."

"Are you kidding me?" Mary Margaret laughed. "I could tell you guys were hitting it off, but you didn't tell me that things had gotten so serious."

"They haven't." Emma pulled her soup out of the microwave, burning the tips of her fingers as she did so. "It's really not that big of a deal. He stayed the night, so what?"

"_So what_?" Mary Margaret was incredulous, and it made Emma feel remarkably guilty. "Emma, in the 8 years we've known each other, you have never, not ever, let a man spend the night at your place. Hell, you're weird about me staying the night at your place! So don't even act like this isn't a big deal."

Emma could perfectly imagine Mary Margaret standing in the middle of her elementary school classroom with her hands fisted on her hips, giving her the same look she always gave when Emma was doing something exceptionally dumb. "Look, I'm sorry. I just don't know what this is yet." Emma sat at her desk with her soup. "I'm not really ready to think about it."

"Alright. But you _are_ going to need to think about it," Mary Margaret said. As if Emma hadn't already spent half of her morning thinking about Killian. Could all of this be any more confusing?

There was a long pause as Emma ate a few bites of her soup. "I told him about being in foster care."

Mary Margaret inhaled sharply, but her voice was surprisingly calm when she spoke. "That's good. That's really good."

"Yeah, I guess." She stirred her soup slowly, watching the noodles spin around in the bowl.

"You know when you want to talk about it, I'll be here to listen, right?"

"I know."

They got off the phone shortly after that—confirming their plans for Sunday, with Emma promising not to forget again. After she finished her lunch, Emma found an email from Killian waiting for her in her inbox.

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Good afternoon<em>

_How's your day going?_

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

Emma tried to ignore his message—it only took her 15 minutes to admit defeat.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: Re: Good afternoon<em>

_Long. There's always a lot to do on Mondays, and Mary Margaret has been relentlessly calling me for details about our little rendezvous._

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Social Worker &amp; Bad Friend<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

Killian's reply was immediate.

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: You're most certainly NOT a bad friend<em>

_Oh yeah? And what have you told our little matchmaker?_

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions &amp; Bad Influence<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

Emma grinned as she replied.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: You ARE a bad influence<em>

_Wouldn't you like to know?_

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Social Worker<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Now I'm just more curious<em>

_Indeed I would. Perhaps we should get together and discuss it._

_Have I mentioned I love Peter Pan? Although I think that Captain Hook fellow gets a bad rap._

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

Killian's reply made her laugh.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: Curiosity killed the cat<em>

_Are you trying to get an invite to an elementary school play?_

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Social Worker &amp; Social Planner<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

_To: Emma Swan_  
><em>From: Killian Jones<em>  
><em>Subject: Re: Curiosity killed the cat<em>

_I'll take what I can get._

_Although, perhaps I could interest you in dinner some night this week? Wednesday, possibly?_

_Killian Jones_  
><em>Director of International Trade &amp; Acquisitions<em>  
><em>Helmbrooke, Reed &amp; Associates<em>

And there it was. He was asking her on a real date. Emma didn't know what to do—she knew what she _wanted_ to do, but was it the right thing? Before she could change her mind, Emma typed out her reply.

_To: Killian Jones_  
><em>From: Emma Swan<em>  
><em>Subject: It's a date<em>

_Wednesday would work for me._

_Emma Swan_  
><em>Social Worker<em>  
><em>Department of Children &amp; Families<em>

They quickly ironed out the rest of their plans—he would pick her up from her apartment on Wednesday evening at 7pm and take her to dinner. Location to be decided. Afterward, Emma did her best to put Killian out of her mind and get back to work, but it was easier said than done.

* * *

><p>The rest of her day ran long, and Emma didn't get home from work until after 8pm. And by then all she had the energy to do was eat dinner and hop in the shower. All throughout her shower, she debated with herself about her date with Killian on Wednesday. The idea of going out on a real date was scaring the shit out of her, it was as simple as that. And the thought was humbling.<p>

She already knew that what was going on was more than just a casual encounter. Somehow, their ridiculous beginning had turned them into friends. And friends meant feelings. It was something Emma preferred not to think about.

She was wrapping herself in a towel when she saw she had a text message from Killian. _Hey. What are you up to?_

Emma grinned. _Just stepped out of the shower. You?_

Moments later, her phone rang. She couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice as she answered, "Well hello, Killian."

"That wasn't very nice, now was it? Taunting me with shower talk."

"Oh really?" Emma smiled and sat on the edge of her bed. This was a much easier topic for her to think about—dwelling on her emotions was much more complicated. "Would it bother you to know that all I'm wearing is a towel right now?"

"Bloody Christ." Killian sucked in a breath. "Aye, it would."

Emma leaned back against her pillows, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder to minimize its contact with her sheets. "And I'm laying in bed. What are you doing, Killian?"

"Well I was putting together a proposal for a client meeting in the morning. But now I'm utterly distracted thinking of you being practically naked."

Emma grinned and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Too bad you're not here to take advantage of it." Even though she was laughing, she knew she really meant it. She did wish he were here. And the thought of what he would be doing to her if he were was enough to make her press her thighs together.

"That could be fixed, love."

She trailed her fingertips over her collarbone. "I'm enjoying my fantasies for now."

"And just what are you thinking of?" Killian asked, his accent thickening.

"I think you know."

"Tell me."

Emma parted her towel and let her hands slide down her body. "I'm thinking about your hands and mouth all over my body. Touching me. Tasting me. Filling me up."

Killian groaned. "Where do you want me?"

"I want you inside me," Emma pinched her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. "I want to feel you sliding in and out of me, harder and harder, until I'm screaming."

There was some rustling on the other end of the phone. "Does thinking about me fucking you make you wet, love? Because I'm hard as a fucking rock right now."

Emma brought her hand between her legs, and wasn't surprised to find herself hot and slippery. "Yes," she moaned out the word.

"Good. I want you to finger yourself and think about how much better it would feel if that were me inside you." Killian's breathing was becoming uneven.

Emma did exactly as she was told and began moving her fingers in and out, thinking about him on the other end of the line stroking himself. "Mm, it feels so good. I'm so wet for you."

"Yeah, that's it, love." Killian panted the words into the phone.

She started picking up the tempo, and she knew it wasn't going to be long before she drove herself over the edge. "Oh god, Killian. I'm gonna come." Her whole body tensed and then suddenly released in a flood of pleasure, her orgasm coursing through her as she cried out in ecstasy.

Killian's breathing was erratic in her ear as she came, and then he let out a strangle groan, signifying his own release.

As they both struggled to catch their breath, Killian said, "Jesus Christ." He gave a breathless laugh. "I text you to distract me from my boring work, and look at where we end up."

Emma couldn't help but smile. Her whole body felt melted wax. "I'd say you were pretty thoroughly distracted."

"Aye. Too distracted now." Killian's voice was warm. "I'll likely never get back to work at this rate."

She stole a glance at her bedside alarm clock. "It's after 10pm. I think the workday should be officially over anyway."

"And as I'm going over this proposal tomorrow with the client, all I'm going to be thinking about is you thoroughly and completely distracting me."

Emma smiled, feeling sleepy and sated. "Good."

They shared a comfortable silence, and the sound of Killian's even breathing was quickly lulling Emma to sleep.

"I don't know if I'll make it to Wednesday."

Emma's heart skipped a beat at his words, and before she could stop herself, she said, "Me either."

There was another long pause, it seemed they were both reluctant to get off the phone.

"I suppose I'd better let you get some rest," Killian said finally. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Emma found that she was oddly comforted by that idea. "Okay. Goodnight, Doodle Bear."

"Goodnight, Princess Pookie."

Emma was smiling like an idiot when she fell asleep. She could worry about being in over her head in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Killian had been right about presenting that proposal. It had been an effort to drive the memory of Emma moaning as she came. Somehow he struggled through it. By Wednesday, the only conversations he'd managed to have with her were via text and email, and he found himself watching the clock at the end of the workday.

Just as he was shutting down this computer for the day, his mate Jefferson filled his doorway.

"You heading out for the day?" Jefferson asked.

"What's it look like?" Killian cocked a brow as he stood.

Jefferson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Some of the guys are heading down to the bar after work. You in?"

Killian shouldered his laptop bag. "Ah, sorry, mate. I can't. I've already got plans."

"Oh really? Going out with that blonde from the other night again?" Jefferson leaned companionably against the doorjamb, clearly in no rush.

"Aye." Killian stepped toward the door, hoping his friend would get the hint. He didn't.

Jefferson pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "Things gettin' serious?"

Killian lifted his shoulders. _Serious?_ He wasn't sure what it was. It felt serious to him, he could only hope Emma felt the same. "I don't know, mate. I'm hoping so."

"Wow." Jefferson's eyes were wide. "So the mighty has fallen." He laughed. "I thought you'd be a bachelor forever."

Killian finally pushed past his friend. "Ah, bite me, Jefferson," he said as he made his way down the hall.

Jefferson's laugh followed him all the way to the elevators.

* * *

><p>Killian knocked on Emma's door at exactly 7pm, and nearly swallowed his own tongue when she answered wearing a sinfully short skirt.<p>

Emma opened her mouth to greet him, but Killian only had one thing on his mind at that moment. He'd promised himself he'd keep his hands to himself (at least until they got to dinner), but it only took one look for him to break it. He stepped into her apartment and pulled her into his body. Immediately his lips were on hers. She let out a startled moan and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

Finally, they pulled apart and Emma smiled at him. "Well, hello to you too."

"Hi." Killian's smile mirrored hers. "You look great by the way."

"You, too," she said as they untangled themselves. "So where are we headed?"

"That, love, is a surprise." Killian had gone back and forth on their date location for hours before finally making reservations. He offered his arm. "We'd better get on. If I stay in here too long with you looking like that, we'll never make it to dinner."

Emma laughed as she took his arm. "Who says that's a bad thing?"

* * *

><p>It took a good 35 minutes for them to arrive at their destination by the water.<p>

"The Jolly Roger?" Emma asked, her smile making her eyes shine.

"Aye," he replied. He got out of the car and came around to her side to get her door. His hand went to the small of her back as he led her inside.

They were greeted by a young woman wearing all black, the logo on her shirt a skull and crossbones. "Hey, Mr. Jones. Your table is ready." She smiled and picked up their menus.

Killian shrugged at Emma's raised brow. When they were seated, she instantly asked, "Mr. Jones?" She laughed. "Just how often do you bring your dates here, _Mr. Jones_?"

"First time, actually." Killian smiled at her.

She cocked a brow again. "Then why the 'Mr. Jones' treatment?"

He sat for a moment looking at the ridiculous nautical decor. "The place belonged to my brother. After he died, I bought the place." Killian looked down when Emma put her hand over his on the table, watching as he turned his hand and laced their fingers together.

Their server arrived at that moment and took their drink orders. When she left, Killian watched Emma look around the pub, the corners of her lips curved up ever so slightly.

"Well?" He asked.

"It's charming." She squeezed his hand. "I like it."

They passed the time companionably until their meals arrived, talking about work and the rest of the week ahead of them. It was during one of the lulls in conversation when Emma finally asked the question he'd been anticipating since deciding to bring her here.

"Do you want to tell me about your brother?"

He knew what she was asking. "It's been 5 years now since he passed." Emma was nodding slowly, reassuringly. "It'll be 6 years in January." Killian looked around the room before his eyes settled on hers again. "Liam loved this bloody pub. It was his heart and soul here in the States. And it's the reason I decided to attend university here. I wanted to be near to him.

"I worked here every holiday and countless weekends. I've slung my fair share of pints." Killian smiled at the memory. "They were good times, but my passion wasn't in the pub, it was in business. International trades, in particular. Liam supported me through and through.

"One night he and some of my mates took me out to celebrate a promotion I'd just received. It was a miserable winter night, and Liam left early after one beer because he had to open the pub in the morning. He clapped me on the shoulder and told me he was damn proud of me. And that was the last thing he ever said to me."

Emma's hand found his on the table and wrapped her fingers around his. Killian cleared his throat and continued. "I didn't find out until the next morning that he'd been in an accident. Being his next of kin in the States, the police came to my door in the morning to give me the news. It's a day I'll never forget."

Killian rubbed his thumb along hers. "I used my bonus from that promotion to take over the pub, and I hired people better suited than I to run it. I stop in occasionally to see how things are running, but mostly I stick to the business end of the bar, crunching the numbers."

Emma's eyes were shining. "I'm so sorry, Killian."

He nodded. It was always uncomfortable for him after he shared that story, but he wanted her to know that part of him. It was one of the main reasons why he was so driven in his professional life, why he would be up at all hours of the night working on proposals and hosting international meetings.

"I think your brother would be proud of you," Emma said.

It was like a punch to the gut, and it stole the air from his lungs for a moment. How had she known the exact right thing to say? Killian didn't care if they'd met under the strangest of circumstances or if their first kiss had been a game; this woman clicked with him in a way no other had before. He wasn't about to try and fight it. He could only hope she felt the same.

"Thank you," he said finally. "I'd like to hope that's true."

Over dessert, Emma entertained him with the story of how she'd met Mary Margaret at a grocery store. Emma's bags had spilled in the parking lot, and Mary Margaret had run over to help her. They'd bonded over the Disney movie that Emma had rented (Snow White), and Emma had ended up inviting her over to watch it. They'd been friends ever since.

"I can't believe we'd never crossed paths until now," Killian said.

"I know! Funny how things work out."

Killian thought about their first date and decided that fate had quite a sense of humor.

* * *

><p>They held hands the entire ride back to Emma's apartment. When they got to her door, Emma unlocked it and said, "I had a lot of fun tonight, Killian."<p>

"Aye, me as well, love."

They stood staring at each other for a long moment, and then virtually in unison, they reached for one another. Killian's hands were in her hair as he angled her face to get better access to her mouth, and hers were gripped firmly on his ass.

"Do you want to come in?" She asked.

Killian reached behind her to open the door and pushed them inside.

"I thought you'd never ask." His grin was wicked as he grabbed her and resumed ravishing her mouth.

Their fun wasn't over yet.


	7. Chapter 7

_This._ This is what Emma knew. After Killian's heartbreaking story, she had felt an uncomfortable stirring in her for the man she was currently wrapped around—and it was more than just sexual desire. But here and now—this physical reaction they had to one another—that was something Emma knew how to deal with.

Killian's hands slipped up under her skirt, pushing the material around her waist. He lifted her as easily as he would a bag of feathers, and she instantly wrapped her legs around him, exalting in the feeling of his firm body pressed flush against her. His hands were everywhere as the moved into the apartment, sliding over the bare skin of her legs and ass. When they bumped into the edge of her kitchen counter on their way to the bedroom, Killian boosted her up and slid her onto it. Emma moaned when Killian stepped between her knees and pressed himself into her center so she could feel just how hard and ready he already was.

She pressed her hands between them and tugged his belt loose, leaving it dangling as she undid the snap of his pants. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of her neck and traveled south so he could run his tongue over the curve of her breast peeking out of her top. Emma arched toward him and dragged his pants down until the hard length of him smacked against the thin material of her thong.

"Emma," Killian mumbled against her skin. "Let's go into the bedroom."

She was panting, her desire for him building. "No, I need you. Right now." She wrapped her fingers around him, reveling in his sound of pleasure. Her words sent Killian into a frenzy, and he tore away her panties with a growl. "Yes, yes," Emma moaned out the words.

Killian's fingers dug into her hips, and he pulled her into his thrust, burying him deep inside her. "Fuck," he groaned that single word into her ear. And then he started moving—setting a bruising and wonderful pace.

Emma's cries of pleasure filled the quiet apartment, and she bucked her hips toward him to meet every thrust. They couldn't get enough of one another. Her hands snaked under his shirt until she found flesh, digging into him as he slammed in and out. She couldn't think of anything except how good it felt and how she wanted more, more, more. Her blood was running hot, but Killian's kisses were hotter. He tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. He filled his hands with her breasts, pulling down the cups of her bra and bringing his mouth to the sensitive exposed flesh. When his teeth closed around her nipple, Emma's sounds became animal.

"Yeah, that's it, love. Let me hear you." Killian growled the words into her ear as he pounded into her. He moved his hand between them and used his fingers to help drive her up.

The pressure was building and building until finally Emma couldn't take it anymore. She cried out Killian's name as the orgasm ripped through her, sending heat flooding to every nerve ending in her body. And it was her pleasure that pushed him over the edge, and with a few final wild thrusts, Killian came with a strangled groan.

They slumped together against the counter, panting and sweaty. Killian rested his head against her forehead, smiling down at her. As their heart rates began to steady, he laughed. "Look at us." He shook his head.

Emma leaned back and took in their wild half-dressed arrangement, and a quick laugh escaped her. "Killian?" Emma said quietly, smiling at him.

"Yes, love?"

"Take me to bed."

Killian kicked off the pants that had fallen around his ankles and scooped her up, and Emma looped her arms around his neck.

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, they fell into an easy pattern. In fact, Emma was shocked when Killian worked his way seamlessly into her life. That first workday morning had been an awkward adjustment for her, but now she was coming to enjoy having coffee already prepared for her when she got out of bed. It was more simple, more natural, than she had ever imagined it would be.<p>

Whenever their conversations started heading for dangerous, emotional territory, Emma found it incredibly simple to distract Killian with sex. So, as far as she was concerned, it was working out perfectly, and they'd even attended Mary Margaret's school's production of _Peter Pan_ together. And it had been surprisingly fun. In fact, being with Killian was turning out to be fun, period.

When he'd asked her to go to Robin and his girlfriend Regina's New Year's Eve party, she'd said yes without hesitation. They'd kissed when the ball dropped, and then they'd wild sex in the bathroom afterward. And that's how most of their relationship continued for those first couple of weeks. The first time they spent the night together without having sex was the anniversary of Liam's death. Emma hadn't even known that it was the 6-year anniversary until she'd arrived at Killian's apartment. They'd fallen asleep together, and she'd woken up with his head on her chest. Since then, she'd rarely spent a night alone, and she refused to acknowledge how big of a step this was for their relationship.

Things were moving along steadily, something that Mary Margaret had also taken notice of, and commented on regularly. She was constantly inviting Emma and Killian out on double dates, and for the most part, the pair attended. It wasn't the best of revenge plots, but Emma was enjoying herself all the same. Today, Mary Margaret had invited Emma out for Saturday brunch and girl time—during which all her friend seemed to want to talk about was men.

"So, David and I are going to see that new exhibit at the Museum of Science this weekend. You and Killian should come with us!" Mary Margaret enthused, scooping up a bite of her pasta.

Emma nodded her head. "That would be fun. I'll have to check with Killian to see if he has any plans."

Her friend laughed. "Check with him? The two of you are together every day. I think all his plans _are_ you."

The thought unsettled Emma. "We're not together _every_ day. He spends the night at his place at least once a week. Sometimes more."

"Yeah, okay. _One_ night a week. Got it." Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "You can pretend things aren't on a one-way train to Serious Town all you want, but one day, you're going to have to realize that they are."

"We're just enjoying each other, that's all." Emma scraped her fork through her salad, her appetite suddenly disappearing.

Mary Margaret took a careful sip of her drink, studying Emma over her glass. "You know, I just don't really think that's true. You two are just good together. Anyone can see that." She shrugged, a small smile on her face.

"Well what do you know? Killian and I are just having fun," Emma snapped. "Not everyone is looking for their 'true love.'"

Her friend pulled back, dropping her fork onto her plate with a clatter. Mary Margaret's eyes were wide, and she pressed her lips together into two thin lines. Emma immediately regretted what she had said—shame washed through her, heat flushing her skin. "Mary Margaret," Emma began quietly. Although her friend lifted a hand and shook her head, Emma continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's okay. I understand." Mary Margaret shrugged. "If you didn't want to talk about it, that's all you had to say." The pair picked at their food for a quiet minute before Mary Margaret said, "So did I tell you about David trying to make dinner for me last week and setting the oven mitts on fire?"

And just like that, they slipped seamlessly back into a comfortable conversation.

* * *

><p>The rest of the afternoon while Emma ran errands, she thought about the conversation she'd had with Mary Margaret. She refused to accept that things were getting serious with her and Killian. Two people could spend time together and enjoy one another without hearing wedding bells ringing in the distance. Not everyone was like the Nolans. And Killian understood their arrangement. Emma had been careful to keep their conversations light when it came to their relationship, and he always took the hint. There was nothing to worry about.<p>

Emma frowned. Mary Margaret didn't know what she was talking about. She and Killian _didn't_ spend every night together, and it wasn't like they were attached at the hip. She was still a free woman, and she was in complete control of her heart. _Liar_.

When Emma got home, she slammed around her apartment, putting away her groceries. There was no way she was letting someone in again. She'd decided that a long time ago. Her little tryst with Killian was no different. It couldn't be. Emma simply wouldn't allow it. The last time she'd trusted someone with her heart, it had been smashed into a million tiny, terrible pieces. It had taken her a long time to pick up and carry on, and it was an experience Emma wasn't sure she could survive a second time.

When she realized her breathing was unsteady, she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she was taking her first sip, there was a knock on her door. When she opened it, she was greeted by Killian carrying two large brown paper bags.

"Hello, love." Killian leaned over the bags, careful to keep them upright, and gave Emma a quick kiss before breezing past her into the apartment. "I've gotten us some Chinese food for the evening. I ordered your usual."

Emma stalked into the kitchen after him, where he was already unloading their food. "Didn't bother to call me first?"

Killian arched a brow. "Lovely to see you, as well." He continued pulling containers out of the carry out bags.

She crossed her arms tight over her chest. "I'm serious. Maybe I had plans."

He turned to face her fully, a white container in one hand. "Okay?" He began slowly. "Do you have plans this evening that I don't know about?"

Emma jerked one shoulder upward. "No. But I might have. I don't have to run my schedule by you."

"Clearly something is bothering you, love." Killian set the carton down and leaned a hip against the counter. "Care to fill me in?"

"I'm not your 'love.'" Emma saw the pain that flashed through his eyes, but she couldn't stop herself from continuing, even though her heart was shouting no. "And nothing's _bothering_ me. But you can't just assume I'm sitting around at home like some lovesick puppy waiting for you to show up."

Killian's face was completely calm, but his voice was like hot iron. "I've never thought anything of the sort. We've shared dinner together every night, aside from when one of us has said otherwise. I believed, wrongly apparently, that bringing over your favorite Chinese food would be a welcome surprise."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should have checked with me first." Emma pointed a finger at him. "I have a life outside of you, you know."

"Aye, a very successful and rewarding life, far as I can tell. But I don't know what that has to do with us." He pointed between them.

_Us._ The word sent chills down Emma's spine. She and Killian were an "us." An undeniable unit. How had she possibly let this happen? "Don't try to charm me! You know what I mean."

"No, Emma, I really don't." Killian took a step toward her, and she instinctively took one away. "I think it's time for you to fill me in."

"My life can't... _doesn't_ revolve around you. You're turning his into more than it is." Emma's voice was wild, and she was struggling to hold back tears.

"And what is this? What does it mean to you?" His voice betrayed the frustration he was feeling.

"We're two adults enjoying one another. Why does it have to be more complicated than that?"

Killian laughed bitterly. "I'm not the one making it complicated, love. We are enjoying each other, but I didn't think that stopped at the physical. I care for you, is that such a bad thing?"

"Yes!" Emma shouted. "This was never supposed to get serious!"

"Well plans change." His eyes were alive with anger. "And don't for a moment think that I don't realize what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything!"

Killian barked out a laugh. "Oh, I think you know exactly what you're doing, love. Things are getting a tad too cozy for you, so you're pushing me away." He lifted his hands in frustration. "Don't think I haven't been keen enough to pick up on just how surprising our relationship has been to both Mary Margaret and David. I'm not a fool, Emma. I know this means more to you than you'll admit to me. Or yourself."

"Don't tell me how I feel! I'm not pushing you away—I'm just telling you how it is. You're making this more than it is. If you can't just enjoy our time together without complications, then maybe our time together is over." Emma shrugged, even though the words burned her throat as she said them.

"Is that really how you want it?" Killian spoke quietly.

_NO!_ "Yes." She was on a collision course, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do to stop herself.

"Fine then." Killian appeared at a loss. The hurt and anger in his eyes were nearly more than Emma could bear. _This was for the best._ At least that's what she was trying to tell herself. "I'm not going to force you into something you don't want, love. But you're making a mistake." He pushed past her and headed for the door, leaving the Chinese food forgotten on the counter. He turned back, framed in the open doorway. "At least now you'll have the big breakup for Mary Margaret that you were hoping for." Killian laughed and shook his head. "Goodbye, Emma."

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that Emma felt the enormity of the loss. The tears started rolling down her cheeks before she even made it into the bedroom. _What had she done?_ She really didn't know. How had things spiraled out of control so quickly? As she laid in bed, sobbing against a pillow that still smelled like Killian, Emma had the sudden realization that in trying to protect her heart, she had managed to break it just the same.


	8. Chapter 8

Killian had had worse weeks, of that he was certain—it was just that none came to mind at the moment. He hadn't spoken to Emma since he'd abruptly left her apartment, and he'd managed to avoid David and Mary Margaret as well. That was some grief he really didn't need at the moment.

That damn woman. He'd been trying to be respectful of her boundaries. There was no talking about their relationship and no making plans more than a week in advance. It had been infuriating, but Killian had assumed she would come around eventually. Instead, she'd decided to push him away. She was an idiot.

_Gods above, he missed her._

He hated that he missed her, and that he constantly kept an eye on his phone. He hated eating dinner alone and waking up alone—two things he used to revel in. It was finally Friday and Killian could do the one thing he'd been needing all week (aside from Emma). A goddamn drink. He turned off his phone as he sat down at his kitchen table, and then twisted off the cap of a bottle of bourbon and went to work. A night alone to get blindingly, numbingly drunk. It was the perfect cure for a heavy heart.

An hour and a half later and he was four glasses in, and feeling a right bit sloshed when there was a heavy pounding on his door. Killian growled and poured himself another drink. _Go away._ There was no one Killian wanted to see at that moment. No one. The pounding continued. David's muffled voice came through the door, "Killian, goddammit! Open the door!" More pounding. "Open the fucking door! I can do this all night!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mumbled to himself as he got up and went to the door, swinging it wide. "What?"

David quickly scanned his friend. "You look like shit."

Killian barked out a humorless laugh. "Great to see you, too, mate. Now, as much fun as this has been..." He tried to close the door, only to be blocked by David.

"I didn't come all the way out here to get the door slammed in my face."

"Well now, I didn't fucking invite you, did I?" Killian took a gulp of his drink, enjoying the burn.

"You won't answer your damn phone—what else was I supposed to do?" David pushed his way into the flat.

"Take a hint?" Killian dropped down at his kitchen table, sliding the bottle toward his friend when he sat.

"Emma's at our place." David ignored the bourbon and studied his friend carefully.

His whole body tensed at the sound of her name. "Aye? Sounds like a normal Friday." He drained the rest of his glass.

David ran his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, I guess it would be if Emma weren't crying her eyes out."

Killian tipped more bourbon into his cup. "She's crying? Serves her right." _Why in bloody hell was she crying?_

"Really? That's all you've got to say about that?" David's looked incredulous.

"She bloody well broke up with me, didn't she?" Killian shouted, slamming a hand on the table. The bourbon was making his head heavy. If Emma was crying then... he was right. She did care. "What's she going on about crying?"

David's brow creased. "She broke up with you?"

"Aye, that's what I said, mate. Kicked me to the curb over bloody Chinese food. Canya' believe it?" His accent was getting thicker with every drink he took.

"Wait what?" Now David looked genuinely confused.

Alcohol was making his tongue loose, and Killian was having trouble putting a filter on his thoughts. "We weren't even supposed to be really dating—it was all a game. And then she had to go and be bloody wonderful, didn't she?" He waved his hands as he spoke. "Quite a firecracker, our Emma. _Your Emma_, I should say. Can't be claiming her now." He took another swallow. "Aye, things were supposed to be so simple. But things change, don't they, mate? And now here I am, drinking away my sorrows—all because I wanted things to change." Killian laughed bitterly and leaned over to rest his forehead on the table. He just wanted to go to block it out for a little while.

David grabbed Killian by the upper arm and pulled him up away from the table. "C'mom, bud." Killian tried to protest, but the bourbon was making him slow and stupid.

"Look, mate, I don't want to fight you."

David rolled his eyes and herded Killian through the apartment. "I'm not going to fight you, idiot." He pushed him into the bathroom and dumped Killian into the shower. "It's time for your ass to sober up." And with that, David turned the shower on full blast.

Killian let out a string of expletives as the icy cold water hit him. It only took an instant for him to become completely soaked. "What the fuck?" He shouted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

David snapped off the water and tossed him and towel, which he was just able to grab before it hit him in the face. "Get dried off and explain yourself. I'll be waiting out here." He turned and walked out.

Once Killian had changed and returned to the table, decidedly more sober than before, he found David waiting for him, a contemplative look on his face.

"Now, let's hear all of that again, without the confusion of alcohol."

_Shit._ Killian took a deep breath before launching into an explanation, from the blind date to last Saturday—leaving out a few of the more... intimate details. The entire time, his friend just sat and listened, nodding periodically.

"I see," David said once the story had finally concluded. "So let me get this straight. You and Emma pretended to be dating so you could stage a big breakup, and hopefully prevent my wife from setting either of you up on blind dates. But then you two actually started dating? And then actually broke up?"

Killian nodded, "Aye. That's the long and short of it."

"You left out the part about you being in love with her."

Killian's heart clenched dangerously in his chest. "We've only known each other a few months, mate. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Certainly he cared for her, and he'd come to respect and admire her, but love? It was obviously too soon for that. _Right?_

David laughed. "Okay, you keep telling yourself that." He clapped Killian on the shoulder. "I think you should talk to Emma."

"If she wanted to talk, she could've reached me." And she hadn't. Not one peep.

David rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but...," he paused, trying to decide how to continue. "Look, as far as Emma's concerned, all of the major players in her life have left her other than Mary Margaret and I. Her parents, her foster families, Neal."

Killian jolted at the unfamiliar name, cutting David off. "Neal? Who the bloody hell is Neal?"

"Ah, an ex-boyfriend. It wasn't pretty, that's all I'll say. That's Emma's story to tell, if she wants to tell it. All I'm saying is that Emma wants to leave people before they can leave her. She tried it with us, and she's just tried it with you."

Killian nodded. "I get what you're saying. I'll think about it."

"Good." David stood. "Now I have to get back and check on my women. Are you going to be alright here?"

"Aye, I will." Killian walked him to the door. "I'm glad you stopped by, mate."

"I know." David shot him a quick grin. "And I mean it, talk to Emma. I liked seeing the two of you together. I admit, it took some getting used to, but you make her happy."

_Not so happy right now_, Killian thought. But all he said was, "Thanks, mate."

Once Killian shut the door, his mind flooded. He had learned a lot in a short amount of time. Could it really be that Emma was missing him as painfully as he was missing her? If what David told him was accurate, then it seemed like a good possibility. And this Neal character. That was something Killian wanted to know more about. What had he done to Emma that was so bad? The thought of someone hurting her sent fire through his veins, and his fists clenched involuntarily.

Killian needed to talk to Emma. He was tired of missing her. And tired of the dull pain that had been throbbing in his chest the past week—a pain that could only be described as heartache.

Maybe he was in love after all.


	9. Chapter 9

The universe was punishing her for being a terrible person. That was the only explanation Emma could think of for why she was having the week from hell. Her two top cases had gone from bad to worse. The young girl she'd been working with—Julia—was having a hell of a time adjusting to being back in a group home. And that was putting it lightly. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't sleep, and she was picking fights with other kids. And the boy, Frankie, just had another family fall through. It had been all lined up to go through on Tuesday, and the parents had pulled out at the last moment. It was a nightmare all around.

Emma refused to believe that sleeping alone every night was factoring at all into her mood. It was all just because of her work. Emma liked being alone. It's what she preferred. It's what she was used to. She was handling her breakup just like she handled everything else in her life. She was fine with it. Perfectly fine. This mantra continued working for her until Friday afternoon when one of her coworkers swung into her office and invited her out for Chinese with the rest of their department. After Killian had left, she dumped all of the Chinese food into the garbage untouched. She couldn't stand the sight of it on her counter.

Emma's coworker prompted her again, "Well, ya comin'?"

Emma shook her head quickly, made some half-assed excuse about other plans, and then gathered her things and fled the building. Fine? She wasn't even on the same planet as the word "fine" right now. She hadn't cried since that first night that Killian had left, and she'd firmly convinced herself it was because she was totally, perfectly fine with it all. But now, the stabbing pain in her chest was more than she could bear, and each erratic beat of her heart said _liar, liar, liar_. Without fully realizing that she had done it, Emma pulled up in front of Mary Margaret and David's house. She pounded on the door, and was greeted by Mary Margaret.

"Oh, Emma! What a surprise...," the happy look on her friend's face fell. "What's wrong?" Mary Margaret pulled Emma inside.

Emma let herself be lead to the couch in the living room. She didn't know why she'd come here. It wasn't like her to spill her guts, not even to the Nolans. She twisted her fingers together in her lap when they sat. "It's been a rough week," she finally said.

Mary Margaret ran a soothing hand down Emma's shoulder, leaving her hand cupped over Emma's clenched fists, calming their twisting and turning. "Tell me what happened."

The knowing look broke Emma's final reserve. "Killian and I broke up." The words caught in her throat.

"What! When?" Mary Margaret's mouth hung open. "Why?"

Emma jerked her shoulder upward just as David walked into the room. "Oh, hello, Emma," his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" His concerned tone matched the one his wife had employed just moments earlier.

"Emma and Killian broke up," Mary Margaret said in a hushed voice.

"What! What happened? Where—"

Mary Margaret silenced her husband with a look. "Emma was just about to explain before you came in." She turned her attention onto Emma. "So?'

Emma took a deep breath. What was it like to be them? To be such a flawless unit? To be so unafraid of their commitment to one another? "We broke up. Last weekend." She jerked her shoulder up again. "It's not a big deal."

"I see." Mary Margaret said, eyebrows shooting upward. Clearly their definitions of 'not a big deal' differed slightly. David took a seat across from them, fisted hands perched on the arms of his chair. "Why don't you tell us what happened?" She asked.

Emma sank back against the couch. "He brought Chinese food over on Saturday, we had a fight, and then Killian just left. And we haven't talked since." Emma pressed her lips together for a moment to collect herself. She could still hear the way he'd said 'Goodbye, Emma.' It had been like a kick to the stomach. "Things had run their course anyway, right? It's not like it was going to last forever." She shook her head. "Things just don't last forever. Honestly, I expected it to happen sooner." Emma was babbling out the sentences, sucking in air. What was happening to her? It wasn't until she felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks that she realized the full-fledged panic she was in.

Mary Margaret pulled Emma in, wrapping her in a maternal embrace. "Shhh. It's alright, Emma." Emma's breath was coming in ragged gasps, and her tears stained the front of her friend's shirt. David stood abruptly and stomped out of the room—the slamming of the front door following closely behind him.

It only took a few more minutes before Emma was cried out and feeling completely, absolutely mortified. She pulled away gently, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

Mary Margaret reached out and smoothed down the hair at the side of Emma's face. "Are you okay? I've never seen you get like this before—not since, well, not since Neal."

Emma shot forward, her spine turning into steel. "It's not like that." She wasn't in love. She knew what that felt like. Love made you weak. It made you subservient. It made you a fool. Comparing what she had felt for Neal to what she felt for Killian was like night and day. Those feelings weren't even in the same solar system. So why wasn't she over Killian already? It didn't make any sense.

"Well, I wasn't there to witness your relationship with Neal—just the aftermath and what you told me. But I still think this is important. You've never, in the eight years I've known you, ever cried over a man. You've never even let a man spend the night other than Killian." Mary Margaret lifted her hands in exasperation. "You haven't opened up to me about this, Emma. Every time I bring it up, you change the subject, so I've had to draw my own conclusions. And do you want to know what I've concluded? Killian matters to you. And I think you're giving up on this too easily."

Emma laughed. "I'm giving up? He's the one who walked out." She didn't address any of Mary Margaret's other comments. She simply didn't know how.

Mary Margaret cocked a brow. "Did he walk out or was he pushed out?"

"He certainly didn't let the door hit him on the way out," she snapped.

Mary Margaret leveled her with a look. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Emma huffed out. How had this conversation ended up here?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma sighed. "No, not really." Her emotional high was ending, and now she just felt tired.

"Okay." Mary Margaret smiled at her. "Do you want me to make up the guest bedroom for you?"

And it was as simple as that. Mary Margaret was the first person in her life who had ever just accepted Emma for exactly as she was. She didn't expect her to be anything she wasn't, and she didn't push when Emma wasn't ready for it. She just loved her. Emma smiled. "No, thanks. I think I'm just going to go home and get some sleep."

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?" Mary Margaret grabbed Emma's hand. "I have a bottle of wine and some Ben & Jerry's in the freezer. We could make a night of it!"

Emma laughed. "As appealing as that sounds, I need to think about a few things." She stood up, and Mary Margaret mirrored her movements. "Thank you for being there for me."

"Of course!" She walked Emma to the door, and wrapped her up in a hug. "I'm always here for you."

Emma thought about that all the way home. She really did have someone who was there for her, someone to depend on. And maybe she could have counted on Killian to be there for her too. Had she not given them enough of a chance? Emma laid spread eagle in her bed, trying to pretend that the space wasn't swallowing her up. The idea that she was trying to prevent herself from getting hurt was now laughable—because she had so utterly and completely failed.

Missing Killian was like a physical thing. Something she couldn't even really describe. She just knew that she missed the way he always wanted to wash her hair in the shower. The way he would make big breakfasts on Sunday mornings. The way he would laugh and yell at the TV when they watched stupid movies. She fell asleep that night, counting all the ways she missed him.

* * *

><p>When Emma woke up the next morning, her head felt heavy from all the tears she'd shed. She promised herself that those would be the last tears she cried over Killian Jones. As she prepared her morning coffee, there was a knock at her door. Carrying her mug with her, she went to answer it. When she swung open the door, there he was, looking sinfully handsome. Her heart flipped over in her chest, it's staccato beat echoing in her chest. Warmth radiated from her fingertips to her toes.<p>

"Good morning, Emma," Killian said, his lips curving up into a smile. "We need to talk."


End file.
